The heavy, deeply intoxicating aroma of Rick's heaven-defying truffle dish was finally beginning to dissipate from the sprawling commercial pavilion, as the massive crowd of mesmerized billionaires and elite reporters were still aggressively begging the transport dealer for a single crumb of the leftover food.
Rick had already officially secured the fifty-million-dollar mobile kitchen fleet in pure cash, so he completely ignored the chaotic, zombie-like crowd, casually slipping his hands into his tailored pockets as he led Elena away from the heavy transport sector and back toward the glittering, neon-lit main exhibition hall.
Elena walked gracefully beside him, her ice-blue eyes shining with intense, undeniable pride, because she had just watched her man casually drop the GDP of a small island and completely hypnotize the country's wealthiest tycoons using absolutely nothing but a portable stove and his bare hands.
